Perception
by Constance Greene
Summary: SoraRiku Collection — 04. Some kids just never grow up.
1. pajamas

_& - - ;_

**A**U**TH**or's N**O**Te - -  
_Y_es, this is in fact Sora x Riku. Don't like it, don't read it.  
_I_t's also a collection of what will be 50 drabbles. The themes are by Tatikara, so no stealie-poo without permission.  
_K_ingdom Hearts isn't mine.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**P E R C E P T I O N  
**- ; SORIKU c o l l e c t i o n

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

#045 ; _Pajamas_

He hadn't asked for anything at all for his birthday. He had simply invited Sora over to his house, a hobby that occurred nearly every day (except Sora sometimes forgot the rule of common courtesy and usually invited himself over), with all the intentions of eating cake and playing video games and not going to bed until six in the morning in mind.

So maybe he wanted a little money, sure, but knew that his friend was always broke (this was common knowledge – Sora sniffed around for munny as much as he sniffed around for sweets, and he was probably somewhere between twenty and forty thousand munny in debt to Riku – the silver-haired boy had lost count months ago), and therefore could not possibly attain such a simple present for Riku.

But all faithless doubts cast aside; Sora _did_ manage to get a gift.

Riku stared down blankly at the green fabric spilling from the parted clothes box like limp confetti. Tentatively, he reached out and rubbed it in between his fingers. Mmm, cottony.

Pajamas. Sora had given him _pajamas_, of all things, for his birthday.

"**Pajamas**," He repeated, this time aloud, as if it was the most ridiculous and unbelievable gift in the history of Destiny Islands. Well, it probably was. But what was even more horrible, now that he thought about it, was that this outrageous bestowal was perfectly predictable coming from Sora. He wearily glanced up at an expectant fifteen year-old, trying his best to show his discouragement. It, of course, went unnoticed.

"Yeah!" The brunette laughed, as if it was the most amusing thing ever, his gigantic spikes bobbing as he did so. "I've got a matching pair, too! You've gotta try 'em on, Riku."

"What demon possessed you to do this?"

"No demon." He grinned, albeit a little mischievously. "Just my own good will."

Without further complaint, he was hustled into his bedroom and locked behind his own closed door, left to either stare forlornly at the wall or dress. After hearing the bathroom door shut where Sora had trudged off to, he decided to perform the task option two included. He didn't want his friend to start banging the door down when he was getting undressed.

On second thought; Riku wouldn't mind that too much.

Nevertheless, Riku complied. He wasn't going to be the party pooper at his own celebration. He pulled the top over his finely chiseled chest and quickly glanced himself over in the mirror. It felt light on him, like silk, rippling as he took a step foreward, testing it out. He nearly felt weightless. And the pants were baggy, too – just as he liked them.

He padded towards the doorway once done to peer out from behind the open door. Sora came marching into view at once, dressed in plaid purple long pajama bottoms and a lavender T-shirt, nearly colliding with the hesitating boy. Riku raised a brow, silently grateful that he had gotten the green of the pair. Purple was just downright girly (all though he had to admit it looked good on Sora).

"See, it compliments your eyes. Kairi agreed that I made a good choice." Said Sora proudly, examining his work. So, Kairi had been in on this, too? Grr.

"Why couldn't she come, anyway, Riku?" He looked at him curiously, with those big blue eyes that appeared almost violet with his choice of dress. He realized he was staring into their sedative depths a little too long, and reluctantly tore himself out of his reverie, beginning to sputter.

"Oh . . . um, well . . . you know. She's, uh, coming over tomorrow." So Riku had sort of wanted to keep Sora to himself, just for tonight. Ha, he hadn't recalled it being such a handful before.

"Okay!" Sora was content with every decision his older friend made, it seemed. But after all, it was his birthday. He gripped the other teenager's wrist and led him into his own living room where they planned on sleeping.

"You can't possibly be tired, can you?" Inquired Riku, who had just witnessed the kid chug a liter bottle of Coke not ten minutes before. The caffeine had yet to kick in.

"No. I wanted to play Mortal Kombat."

Oh right. The TV and PS2 also inhabited this lovely little room.

After an hour of playing various video games, they still had a great amount of unspent energy.

"PAJAMA PARTYYY!" Sora exclaimed, leaping up on the couch.

"YEAHHH." Sora had managed to share another bottle of soda with Riku which had washed down the large chocolate birthday cake that had just been waiting to be ravished on the kitchen table.

They both jumped up and down on the couch violently, spewing pillows in their wake.

"**PAJAMAS**! **PAJAMAS**! **PAJAMAS**!"

Amidst their jovial displays of insanity, the two boys clambered off the disheveled sofa and stood in front of their sleeping bags. They turned their heads in unison to look at each other and shared a grin.

"Wheeeee!" Sora dived foreward, and for a moment he was suspended in air like a gliding Superman before he slid across his sleeping bag as if it were a Slip-'n-Slide.

"AHHHHH!" Riku followed suit, a little less gracefully than his friend and ended up crashing into him. "DAMN. My head." He pulled himself up-right, hand flying to his mass of hair and flattening it down. Sora was giggling – actually, truly _giggling_ at him. Fricken' girly-man. But why wasn't he covering his ears?

Anyway, that clumsy act spoiled his mood, and he retreated inside his sleeping bag as a butterfly reversing metamorphosis would. Sora scooted into his own respective cocoon, but wriggled up to Riku seconds later and jabbed him with his protruding hairdo.

"Sora!"

"Sorry."

They lapsed into silence, and then Riku felt a peculiar _kneading_ on his neck. Sora was burying his head into his shoulder. More like, he was cuddling.

"If you have lice, I'll kill you. Stop it."

"Don't you think our pajama party was fun, Riku?" The brunette whispered to him in the dark, finally taking the hint to be quiet. Actually, Riku wanted him to shut up, but at least he was getting there.

"Oh yeah. Real fun."

"Good times, you and me."

"Always and forever, Sora."

For once, there was blessed silence. Had Sora finally fallen asleep? No. Then he would feel the deep rising and falling of his chest against his side. Besides, an arm was sneakily trying to slither around his waist. Riku was going to bat it away, but at the last moment, decided against it. There was something comforting about Sora's touch.

"Please don't leave me again, Riku." His breath tickled the sensitive part of his inner-ear, sending a shiver of guilt down Riku's spine. He paused before speaking up to the ceiling, which was barely distinguishable in the darkened room.

"I didn't really mean to, Sora." He hadn't. He really hadn't. He wouldn't have gone and opened the door if he knew Sora would follow him to the ends of the worlds, to try to save him – to try to rescue him from his darkness. He should have thought that part out more. Sora had _always _tagged along with him on the islands, ever since they met each other. "I won't. Ever again."

He heard Sora sigh, snuggling closer, reassured by his answer. "Then we can have pajama parties every night."

If it'd be like this every night, Riku mused, then he was looking foreward to it.

**A**U**TH**or's N**O**Te - -  
_W_owww. I don't think the others will be on so much crack; don't worry.


	2. diamond

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**P E R C E P T I O N  
**- ; SORIKU c o l l e c t i o n

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

#013 ; _Diamond_

_No. Nononononono. _

The solo negative adverb repeated itself over and over in his mind as his pupils dilated slightly with shock. He felt a familiar sinking feeling in his gut, as if his heart was an anvil attached to a string; the string severed, and the cold heavy metal goes plunging down to the pit of his stomach. He'd close his eyes if he could, but he was forced to stare and try to keep cool and composed, never mind the sense of dread clogging his throat.

Held out before him was a small, square box. It was made out of dark cobalt velveteen material, its edges shaved into soft bluntness. The expert flick of Sora's thumb propped it open to reveal a ring nestled into the pearly satin interior. Crafted from molten gold, the ring part was slender and appeared almost flexible, like it could mold to one's finger as soon as it was slipped on. A diamond, cut as a star and scintillating with such ferocious intensity that even the most aesthetically challenged antagonist's gaze would be allured, was encrusted into its middle.

It was stunning; it was beautiful. And it wasn't for him.

"Pretty, huh?" The brunette grinned, and suddenly the gift vanished as he pushed the top back down over the ring. He stuffed it into his back pocket, the navy blue suit he was wearing crinkling slightly around his underarm as the rest of the fabric stretched to accommodate with the action. Riku paid special attention to that, along with everything else. The image of his best friend suddenly seemed clearer now, and the night air was cooler on his cheek, the sky a richer midnight hue. It was the lasting effects of the ring's glamour, he assumed, the sparkle that rubbed off onto everything else like fairy dust.

"Yeah." Riku swallowed with some effort. "Kairi's going to love it."

The redhead that they had known since childhood had been dating Sora for, what, four years now? At the moment, he couldn't remember. There had always been an apparent connection between the couple years before they had started going out. Still; he could recall the enlightened feeling he had gotten when he had kissed Sora, and the way he had combed his fingers up through the silky spikes in his hair and trailed his other hand down the younger boy's concave side. That had only happened twice before: when they had finally found each other and returned back to the islands exactly five years ago, and Riku convinced himself it was out of gratefulness for being reunited once again. The other time had been at a party when they were a little tipsy with alcohol; he believed Sora had convinced himself it was because of the intoxicating atmosphere.

Funny how he could remember those two very special occasions more so than the span of his friends' love life.

Sora nodded slowly and jumped up next to him on top of the dock's ledge, sitting down and swinging his legs methodically like he did as a child. _Old habits die hard_, thought Riku,_ especially if you're Sora._ He sighed then, and Riku gazed upon him levelly with icy eyes. _Something's troubling you and I know it. Let me help you. Something's troubling me, too._ As if he could ever say that. Sure, he was the aloof, older guidance friend. Riku just wished he was sometimes something more.

"You know, I was intending on giving it to Kairi," Sora began, looking down at the swirling opaque ocean beneath his feet. This close to shore, not even the stars could cry their light down on the dark water. _Of course you were. I didn't doubt it for a second. Well, maybe there had been a half-second . . . not even . . . but before, you surprised me. You really did. _"Now I'm not so sure."

"Why not? _Why not_?" The platinum-haired man demanded, because he was caught off-guard again. Why wouldn't he give it to Kairi? They'd be happy. Eternally happy, bound together forever and ever. And happiness was never anything Riku could have given Sora anyway. Why had he been tricked into thinking such nonsensical idealistic hopes in the first place?

_Because I think I – Because I know I – I love him. _

Since the day Sora had slipped from his reach an eternity gone, the other Keyblade Wielder had constantly been on his mind. When he closed his eyes, behind his eyelids he saw the image of Sora. When his eyes were open, he saw the figure of Sora off in the distance, unreachable and impossibly unattainable. How his heart had screamed at him when he had seen Sora behind the closing door to Kingdom Hearts, repenting all his sins to make room for new ones to take their place. He had to wait another half year to see him again, and then finally be with him again. Now he was going to marry Kairi, and they were going to be the perfect husband and wife. The famed supercouple of Destiny Islands that everyone expected them to be, including Riku.

But he hated it. So he what if his mind accepted it; he'd still always be against it, in his heart.

"Jeeze, Riku. Don't you understand anything?" His pale brows twitched and he looked up out of his bitterness and saw Sora examining him with an aggrieved expression masking his face. His face was now too close to comfort if he had been a stranger, the face that Riku was in love with, still boyishly innocent; a visage that had always both attracted and exasperated the older person.

Lacking further warning, the fullness of Sora's lips collided with Riku's unsuspecting ones. He kissed with his eyes gently closed; Riku's remained open for the first couple of seconds due to his stupefaction. Only when he felt Sora's hand rest upon the back of his shoulders, fingers clawing up to become tangled with his long luminescent hair did he allow himself to slip under the twenty year-old's spell and return the kiss. His heart seemed to be everywhere at once, beating and sending rivers of blood throughout his body, which felt inflamed. In his throat (like when he is scared), his chest (its normal place), his stomach (when he is sad), his arms (when he is excited), his groin (where he is aroused).

Sora leaned in closer, now nearly on his lap, and with his free hand, slipped the ring onto Riku's finger. He let the kiss linger for a few more seconds before he broke away, and they shared a warm breath together, breathing out their passion.

"Do you understand now?" He murmured in a low voice, still somewhat breathless. It was a good kind of breathless, though – the type one experienced after a refreshing exercise.

Riku's reply was to bend his arm around Sora's neck and pull him in for another endearment beneath the stars that glittered like diamonds. On his finger the ring glistened, a mirror image of those above.

**A**U**TH**or's N**O**Te - -  
_A_s you may see, it's not much like the other one. It has some romance for you fangirls to squeal over.  
_I_ really appreciate the wonderful reviews. They're what caused me to update again so quickly.


	3. pure

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**P E R C E P T I O N  
**- ; SORIKU c o l l e c t i o n

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

#006 ; _Pure_

Riku was pure. He was practically devoid of all colours that tainted the body – his skin had not darkened in the relentless sun ( although he had lived on a tropical island all his life ). Instead it was the lovely pale shade of light cream, like porcelain. If Riku were female, Sora would easily compare him to the dolls Kairi used to collect when they were younger ( _geishas_, she had called them ). Of course, Riku was fair enough to match any woman's looks – even fairer, Sora mused with a feeling similar to pride ( though that wasn't quite it ) swelling in his chest. And he was quite the companion for him, that Riku. He and his bleached hair: long, silky, shiny. It was so sensual, a tempting allure, that he wanted to rub his cheek against it and feel the almost delicately sculpted ( yet still masculine ) jawbone buried somewhere underneath the ethereal veil of silk-spun platinum.

The teenager's eyes were cold yet clear: two ice chips set into a handsome visage and outlined in velvet soot. What colour was ice? Blue, white, and green? And grey? All cool colours which represented pristine emotions and senses. They, the iceberg eyes, reminded him of an icicle he had preserved in his freezer after a rare and unusual freeze – he had wanted to keep the glassy substance that glistened and remember its lack of solid pigment. He had no scars flawing his perfectly crafted, well-built physique, just gently rolling hills of refined muscle, glowing softly in the sun's brilliance as if seen through a filter. Though he claimed his heart had been dark once, plunged in the shadows, Sora still thought the older boy's form was pure and almost holy. Everything on the surface of him reflected bright light; the essence of purity.

_& - - ;_

Sora was pure. His personality refused to be touched by lurid spirits, and he avoided them like the plague. He was a saint in Riku's eyes – one never to commit any sort of wrong. He was the one who did justice to the worlds and saved them as well. The boy himself was nearly skeletal, free of hindering blubber or bulk. He did not overindulge himself with a plethora of food ( at least the metabolism didn't show it ) nor did he flaunt his tenuous vessel by working out extensively and excessively. He did not always have the selfish goal to impress, but rather let himself be. Sora was fine the way he was; perfect. He did not have a care about his hair; which, tousled, stuck out in a vast array of spikes in difference places – his mind was free of all vain thoughts that normally consumed his older friend. He did not worry or fret about staying outside in the daytime because his smooth skin bronzed without burning to a crisp.

And _his_ eyes – they were blue. Blue like the ocean, cerulean mixed with deep cobalt to create a soothing effect on the viewer. He could get lost in those wide, bright eyes. He could drown in those Mediterranean depths, and all the accusing innocence they contained. He'd let the sea lapse over him any day. He'd even welcome it; embrace it with open arms. Riku suddenly imagined what it'd be like to simply hold that boy's slight frame in his sturdy grasp – wondered if he'd feel pure then.

He guessed not.

_& - - ;_

When Sora came to him in the Secret Place, bathed in the moonlight that shone through the gossamer-like cracks etched into the rock ceiling, they could no longer hold their desire or impulses back. Sora shed his moral like a subtle film of cocoon, which happened to also be his shirt. As Riku lifted an immaculately clean hand and reached out tentatively to brush his fingers against the flatness of his tanned chest, Sora took his hand in his and gently raised it to his lips. He lightly kissed the knuckles once, twice, fluttering butterfly wings grazing the skin before lust seemed to take his innocence over like a raging black shadow of doubt. Their fingers intertwined ( like their destinies should be ), they lied down side-by-side on the cold brown dirt that was just beginning to heat up with their warmth. As Sora pressed his lips against Riku's, feeling resistance, he asked in a single hot and moist breath:

"Am I going to Hell, Riku?" Nearly a hiss, escaping into the wind that sidled through the ventilated area. Not a question.

His first response:

"Everyone goes to Hell." _Especially us._

His second response was to roll over on top of him.

_& - - ;_

Whatever pureness they had had before, was lost.

**A**U**TH**or's N**O**Te - -  
_W_hoamygoodness. Is Constance actually updating this? Yes, I guess she is. Mainly for the sake of updating and to jog my muse as well. This is definitely a drabble – it's pointless. Blergh. But I wanted to at least get _something_ up ( even if it is close to pr0n, lawlz ).  
_Y_ou didn't hear it from me.  
_O_h, and Happy New Year. Hope you have a good one. ♥


	4. raindrop

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**P**** E R C ****E P T I O N  
**- ; SORIKU c o l l e c t i o n

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

#004 ; _Raindrop_

The forecasters said it would be sunny until evening, and then the clouds would come, pregnant with fifty percent chance of rain. We, being the 11 and 12 year-old kids that we were, took our chances. We did a lot of that, those days – in fact, we do a lot of that now. Jumping into darkness, chasing after bad guys . . . Nothing much has changed.

Some kids never grow up. And if I said I learned my lesson of falling astray from time to time fully, I'd be lying.

But Sora – Sora was the adventurous one. A different sort of adventurous, however: he was the little-kid kind of adventurous. I myself call it the Reckless and Rambling Syndrome, unlike the case of what I had when I was fifteen or so. That would be the Meticulous Thinking, Teenage Rebellion and Wandering Lone Wolf ( or Stray Dog ) Syndrome. It wasn't a pretty thought when you had dreams of sailing away on a raft with just a bottle of fresh spring water and a couple mushrooms, heading off to explore the worlds. I didn't even think of the waterfalls at the end of the earth that could have been there, or what would happen when I ran out of water. So much for thinking ahead.

I look back on those days, reflecting, and thinking of how stupid I was. I wasn't an angsting teenager, not quite; I was still a child, a young child, hiding in an older boy's body. A raft that would lead to a completely different world – _shit. _That thought had only been implanted in my determined half-brain because of Kairi washing up on the shore 13 years ago, thinking there must have been an entire different territory beyond these simple islands. Now I know that she had actually come from the stars, fallen like some angel ( or devil ) out of the heavens like when God kicked Lucifer out of His Mighty Courts. I'd been through a similar situation when Sora and I arrived back to Destiny Islands, after we defeated Xemnas. Together.

No more world-hopping for me. I was sick of it. Not just physically sick – _mentally_ sick. There I had been, running across worlds as a darkness-driven manipulator, and then working behind the scenes tirelessly . . . Now I'm happy to say that I'm retired. Sora can take Kairi out on trips to Christmas Town to meet Santa Claus ( see what I mean, about kids never growing up? ) and Port Royal to see the famed ( or infamous, by the sounds of it ) pirates, but I'm staying home. The Gummi Ship's interior is a place I've only seen once or twice, but I don't like to see it. To be all sorts truthful, it gives me a sense of insecurity. I hate knowing that Sora still has that old thing, that dirty time-warping machine, and knowing that he's still impulsive. He can jump in and leave me anytime. Might even get himself killed – run into an asteroid, or something. And I swear, he'd probably be grinning and yakking to his friends Donald and Goofy at the time to fix him up something to eat in the back of the ship.

Jealousy is something I'm trying to stay away from these days. A jealousy abstinence. Sounds funny when you hear it, but not when you chew on it a while. You get to thinking – what if I _can't_ stop? What if I _can't_ grow up or learn to control myself?

So I lock myself up on this prison, and try to tie Sora down to it with me. But I won't completely bind him. Some birds' colours are just too bright – they and their wings need to be free.

But I'm straying away from my story. My mind does that sometimes – too many thoughts floating around in my brain. Too many memories. It gets me musing, and that isn't always a good thing. Maybe _I _have the curse of the Reckless and Rambling disease like Sora, because man, can that boy ramble – and not just walking-rambling but _talking_-rambling. I don't consider myself a very imaginative person: I like to stay to the facts and the point. Sometimes I'm so concise that I'm almost blunt. But I _was_ the one who thought there were other worlds out there . . . but that was real. And boy, can I prove it. Regardless, I don't think there are clowns hiding beneath my bed at night that want to eat me like Sora believes.

We were lazing around his house, avidly watching the television. At least, Sora was – even the Weather Channel could amuse that boy. 'That boy,' I keep on referring him to. So impersonal if used by a stranger, so condescending if by an enemy, but so affectionate if used by a friend. Well, he isn't really a boy anymore at 18 years old. He can vote on our next world ruler. Hopefully it won't be the Antichrist he decides ( or doesn't ) to pick. He can smoke, too – but we all know that Sora won't do that. Because he's Sora.

With his big blue eyes like saucers filled with ocean water glued to the screen, I languidly flicked my eyes to the swirling blur of turquoise and forest green colour with red lines crisscrossed on what he was watching. Cloud patterns. Scattered thunderstorms to the east. Boring, unimportant stuff. Sora didn't think it boring, however – in fact, he nearly attacked his mother when she came in with the vacuum.

"Moooom! I'm watching the weather forecast!" I think saying 'forecast' was like repeating a big word he had heard in a previous conversation to him, as a child might include an SAT word in a sonorous speech unusual to its regular speech patterns. Of course, there was still the whining pitch to his voice that didn't make it all that soothing and mature. He still had his little high-pitched squeaky voice that he still hasn't completely grown out of.

"You don't need to hear to watch, honey." She gave the vacuum another hearty pull, closing in on the TV. Sora scrambled back to the couch, nearly sitting on my legs/lap area before I kicked him to the edge of the seat. If I remember correctly, Sora was afraid of vacuums. Okay, I'll give him a little more credit than that. He didn't like the sound of them, or something. Hurt his ears. He always used to get uncharacteristically snappy at Kairi when we were hanging out at her place and would walk around the manor in the rooms farthest away from hers, hands clamped over his ears. She had a maid, and I don't really understand why she'd pull out that little handheld vacuum for her own room, but I think it was just to annoy Sora, like friends do. Or she was just a neat-freak. "Besides, the weatherman's almost always wrong, anyways."

"Yeah, doltface," I happily agreed, knee bouncing lightly with recharged sarcasm. I heard somewhere that sarcasm was for the weak and the lazy – back then I had a façade of strength, but I was still vulnerable. I only put on that mask, that clever guise, for Sora. He needed someone like me in his life, I subconsciously thought – someone to always be there to correct him, like a big brother. Any siblings he had died when they were young or simply were there no longer – I heard rumours of a baby brother that had passed away quietly, and then an older one that moved away for college years before. It wasn't wit either that made one strong – wit was just as crude as cynicism. It was inner-wisdom, something I'd thirst for in my later years – and still don't have, and probably never will completely have.

"Think we can go fishing today, Riku?" He asked eagerly, eyes alight with hope and anticipation. That was another thing you needed when you were lost in the darkness – hope. The darkness can take everything from you, but there's one part of you that won't die, and that's hope. Hope to find your friends again. Hope to be saved. And I might have heard that hope was for the weak, but those people are just fooling themselves. They don't have any dreams to hope for.

I glanced lazily again at the television screen and made an 'mmph' of consideration. "Maybe." My voice was a playful drawl, and I rolled my icy aquamarine eyes away as he tried to further convince me with those large, pleading eyes. I was like the owner, taunting the dog with a piece of meat dangling above its head, just out of reach.

"Pleeeeeease?" He placed his hands on my shins, testing me. I wriggled them out of his grasp, my barriers not failing yet. I could resist his pleas. Surely I could.

"I thought the weatherman said that there was a fifty percent chance of rain tonight," His mother stated calmly.

"It's morning!"

"Noon," I corrected. The clock had just ticked twelve.

"And I thought you didn't believe in weathermen, anyway!" He said stubbornly to his mother, crossing his arms and a small frown tugging at his mouth. She said nothing; a silent smile was on her lips, though, and I could see her watching us act out of the corner of her cornflower blue eye. After we quarreled some more like boys do, Sora tackling me repeatedly and me shoving him away, she finally turned off the vacuum and did something about it. Sora was threatening to pull my hair at that time, and I was close to the edge.

"Go on, boys. You're disturbing the peace." She never said a single rude thing, his mother – her tone was always friendly. Unlike my mother, who I couldn't recall barely a single thing about except for her faintly floral scent when she rocked me in her arms at night. But those ancient memories can be dismissed. I'm not completely haunted, you know.

"'Kay!" Sora called cheerily, bouncing up off the couch and leaping across the room towards the back door. I followed him, sedated, trailing behind like a particularly slow wave making its way to shore. "We won't be out for that long."

Familiar with Sora's rather relaxed and eccentric method of fishing, I figured we'd be out there for hours before one of us even got a bite.

Our chosen destination was the lagoon. It wasn't entirely by the beach, so we had to trudge deeper into the island where the vegetation grew thickly around the clusters of trees, wild and untamed. We used to play Jungle Explorers here, conjuring up invisible monsters and dinosaurs to fight and vicious natives that ate human flesh. We'd always have our faithful wooden swords grasped in our sweaty palms when we did so, because traversing the jungle could actually lead to sudden danger. In those days we searched for other worlds, as if foolishly thinking they'd be buried deep in the heart of Destiny Islands. Not so. The door that led to another world had been on our play island the whole time, right in front of our faces. And we hadn't known it.

At least, _Sora_ hadn't known it. I always had a vague intuition . . . I was, after all, the one who first saw the door opened. And fuck, I wish I hadn't. So many things could have been different – but probably not. Then everyone on the world would have been destroyed. It wouldn't have a chance. There would be no Sora, no Keyblade Master. And even if it could have been prevented, if I hadn't been so stupid and given into temptation, the darkness' allure . . . No. You can't beat Fate. And you can't go back now – your mind might play tricks on you at night when you dream of past events, but you can't change the past.

Luckily, the lagoon wasn't far away. After we walked a ways, Sora barefoot and me safer with sandals, the grass began to grow longer, thinner, and softer. We were coming close to our destination, and Sora no longer complained about stickers that clung to his feet as if he were wearing invisible cowboy boots with spurs. Now the only thing to worry about was quick mud and leeches. They say that boys like bugs, but leeches are just plain disgusting. I've never seen a boy who hasn't freaked out, at least just a little bit, when a leech is sucking the living blood out of his calf or thigh. Mosquitoes are easily-handled because you don't even feel them, and they're small ( but somehow bigger out by the lagoon ), even though the itch afterwards is nasty. Leeches are like bloodsucking slugs, and ripping them off once they're attached means you have to wait for your skin to grow back five days later.

We were walking with our hands crossed behind our heads casually and enjoying the humidity that touched our bare skin. It was then, before I saw the depression where the deep blue water lurked, that I realized something.

"You didn't bring the fishing poles."

"Nope."

Sora ran off ahead of me, jumping up to snap off the branch of a low-hanging willow tree, or something of the sort. I was never much good with trees; the only tree I knew was my slightly warped paopu one, back on the old island.

"We'll use these!" He said, holding up two prize limbs. A little knobby, with some moss draped over their bark, but they'd do.

"What're we gonna do for line, O Genius?"

"We'll use your dad's back hair."

I grinned. "Fair enough."

He ended up pulling up some stringy reeds that were flexible and didn't break when we tied them onto the ends of our makeshift fishing poles. Kids are creative, you know – we use what we have and pretend they're something greater than just a bunch of trash. In our eyes, they were top of the line fishing poles, fancy automatic reels and everything.

We used burs for the hooks, of course. The large kind – with curved claws like the talons of a hawk. Not very sufficient, but good enough. Bait was worms dug out from the lagoon's mucky bed.

We were ready. We were as unprepared as a bunch of hoodlums, but that didn't matter. We plopped down on the steepened shore where the grass still grew and hung our hooks over the side. The water was so dark and slightly murky that we couldn't even see the minnows that were inevitably darting around in the shallow water.

I didn't expect us to catch anything. It was just the very act of fishing, of waiting, of trying our patience that made it a nice experience. Whenever I came home and someone asked me if I had _fun _fishing, even though I supported no aquatic animal for supper that night, I'd always reply, Yes. Because when Sora and I sat in silence like that, he didn't need to talk anymore. He was focused. We shared what time we had together in silence, soaking up each other's minds and brain waves and whatever little fidgets we gave off. Best friends in the company of one another needn't speak often – they know too much about each other and have no need to ask more.

He twitched. He yawned. His teeth were white and clean, reflecting what little sunlight seeped through the canopy to make them sparkle like in a toothpaste commercial. I watched him closely in my peripheral vision, because, well, there wasn't much else to watch. I doubt much lived in that lagoon, anyway – you could possibly catch something if you were out in the ocean, say, on a raft. Destiny Islands had no coral or volcanic reef to speak of, so whatever you caught probably wasn't colourful, but perhaps eatable instead. Here, there were only the sounds of hissing bugs and other such things, a humming atmosphere of nature.

It began to gradually get darker. I looked up from time to time to peer through the tangle of leaves and branches above me and look for the sky, watching it change to darker shades of blue. First cotton, then grey, then steel. Clouds began to move in; great, hulking and disfigured shapes that were both looming and ominous for us ants. It was like playing a game of I Spy – not cloud watching, not exactly.

"Ready to give up?" I asked lightly, feeling the oncoming rainstorm begin to clog up the already stuffy air around us.

"Never." He wore a confident grin on his face. Of course; Sora never gave up. Not when Organization XIII said he was giving them hearts for their terrifying, supernatural ( but not so evil ) plan, and not when he was trying to find me while I was lost in darkness or purposely avoiding him.

I pulled on a slight smile and ruffled his spiky hair with a hand. He batted his hair back down 'in place,' eyes never leaving the lagoon – not once.

Would we even be affected by the rain? There were slits and holes in the canopy, but as soon as it began, I would hustle my friend out of there. I didn't like the rain myself – it wasn't about Sora catching cold, not really. Although he did do that a lot whenever he was caught out in the rain, and _I _was the one he called on to take care of him. Not Kairi, not his mom: _me_. Did I feel special? Hell no. Did I feel entitled to give him snot rags to blow his nose with and serve him chicken noodle soup, fresh from the microwave? No way. You couldn't blame a guy who wanted to prevent doing all that. I could be doing something much more productive with my time – such as . . . Well, okay. I guess I was with Sora and Kairi most of my time back then. So I _had_ to stay with him while he was withering and sniffling away in bed. I was attached.

I began to see tiny circular ripples that appeared on the lagoon's surface. First they were scattered and spread far apart, and then they began to materialize more steadily out of the blue. Sure enough; they were rain drops, dancing on the swampland and beating the semi-protective trees.

"C'mon, Sora. Let's go." I muttered, putting down my fishing pole to save for later use, if we ever came back. Then I looked over my shoulder. "Sora?"

"Just a little longer, Riku? They always bite more when it's raining!"

"Your mom'll murder you." I stared at him as gravely as possible. "Actually, she'd murder me, because you'd probably already be dead."

"Huh?" He murmured beneath his breath, gaze affixed still on the water even as rain poured down all around him.

"You know . . . the swamp monster, or _The Creature of the Black Lagoon _. . . they always come out when it's night."

I turned and began to hike up the hill with that lingering note. He jumped up behind me, quickly abandoning his pole and post to tread after me. His feet squished in the dampening ground.

"Riku, Riku," He chanted behind me, once we broke out of the copse and into a clearing. "It's raining."

_It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. _I held my tongue and refrained from saying so. That was one smart thing I did back then. Insulting your friend was only fun for so long.

I lost track of the squishing footsteps, so I turned around and saw that he was stepping around in the grass, his head tilted back and his eyes squeezed shut. Another odd thing: his tongue was sticking straight out.

At this comical and slightly unnerving sight, like a balancing act done by a clown in a circus, I only stared and blinked, and then finally asked the typical question:

"What are you doing, Sora?"

"Trying to catch a raindrop!"

He didn't seem to be having much luck at the sport. Even then I thought it was childish – who would dance around in the rain to catch one dirty _raindrop_? – but I didn't scold him. I was used to his antics, and the act in which he expressed them I caringly dubbed as 'pulling a Sora.' Right now, he was thoroughly pulling a Sora.

Suddenly, a long and drawn out 'aaaaaah' sound croaked from his throat. If catching a raindrop was like saying 'ah' when your doctor wants to look at your tonsils with a flashlight, then it couldn't be much fun.

He twirled and tripped around some more, until he began to yell excitedly: "I got one! I got one!"

He rushed towards me in delight on the tips of his toes – or at least, where he thought I might be. His eyes were still drawn closed, and before I could stop him he crashed into me, and our mouths instantly met.

It was my first kiss. _Our_ first kiss. And it was completely accidental . . . on my part, anyway.

He didn't even open his eyes then.

After a moment or two ( my actions delayed due to the shock ), I pulled away from him roughly. Only then did he slowly open his eyes and smile at me.

"Hey Riku, I got a big one."

He was then greeted with a clip on the back of his head.

Some kids never grow up.

**A**U**T****H**or's N**O**Te - -  
Oh my goodness. An update? From me? ( I think I said that last time. )  
..I don't know why this is in first person. I think I'm craving to write my Riku/Sora/Kairi chaptered fic, which is in fact, in first person Riku's POV. And, it was somewhat inspired by the book I'm reading right now, _It_ – by Stephen King. Even though that's not written in first person. 8D;; Well, most of it isn't, anyway. I'm also faultlessly reminded of _The Shawshank Redemption_ – okay, I'll shut up now.

And I've noticed… that pretty much all of these have different writing styles. I guess I change mine too much. I hope it isn't too diverse to throw you off.

Anyway. Hopefully you won't have to wait so long again for another update. ;-; I need to be reminded that I have chaptered fics and collections waiting…


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